Pomegranates and Myrrh
by Animom
Summary: Isis never lied about her visions - she was certain the Torc would have grown cold and silent if she had - but she had learned not to be hasty in relaying them. ** YuGiOh FanFiction Contest, Season 8 round 4, Sealshipping (Atem/Mahaado).


Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh is the intellectual property of Kazuki Takahashi and Konami, and is being used in this fanfiction for fan purposes only. No infringement or disrespect is intended by this fanfiction.

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_Written for Round 4 of Season 8 of the FFnet Fanfiction Contest, __**Sealshipping (Pharaoh Atemu and Mahaado).**_ _Despite how the fic begins, it's in there. Really._

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**Pomegranates and Myrrh**

_by Animom_

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Isis never lied about her visions – she was certain the Torc would have grown cold and silent if she had – but she had learned not to be hasty in relaying them. Sometimes patient reflection was needed before the vision's meaning was clear; sometimes a questioner prudently withdrew their question before hearing its answer.

And very rarely, if the vision was all-too clear, she needed time to select the gentlest way to present dire, knife-edged truths.

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The first time she had held back the full brunt of a vision had been years before. She had been led to Aknamkanon's chamber – so deep in the palace that the corridors were numbingly cold – by Atem and Priest Mahaado, the young Guardian of the Ring. In a surprisingly austere room lit by dozens of oil-lamps the pharaoh – who had for seven days refused all food and water – sat on a simple carved stone chair.

The old man, still regally imposing despite his sallow skin and hollow, haunted eyes, had told her, "I am offering my life as atonement for the crimes committed years ago during the creation of the Seven Items. But before I die, I hope that the gods will give me a glimpse of what the future might hold for my son. Will you, Isis, ask them in my name for this boon?"

To her surprise, Aknamkanon had then pointed to a scrying bowl filled with water. Blinking back tears, she had sat on a bench, the bowl in her lap, and placed her fingertips on the Torc as she looked down into the shadowed waters.

At first she had seen only confusion, fire and blood and dozens of people, silently screaming. Then she was flying through the night, gathering seven golden stars in her arms, and then she was falling. As the ground swallowed her, crushing her in a shroud of earth and rock, her last moment of life had been a glimpse of a sunlit balcony far in the distance, where a tall, confident Pharaoh, a woman at his side, looked out with pride at a peaceful shining country.

When she came back to herself, gasping and trembling, she had found Mahaado next to her, his hand on her shoulder. His eyes had been oases of compassion – as if he knew what she had seen – but also seemed to hold a silent plea. "It will be difficult at first," she said to Aknamkanon, gripping the edge of the scrying bowl to still her shaking hands, "and there will be many sacrifices, but in the end the kingdom will have peace and prosperity."

Peace had flooded the dying pharaoh's face, and both Atem and Mahaado had smiled at her with gratitude.

She thought of that day now, as she held another bowl with shaking hands.

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No one knew better than Isis that something was coming, something that had not been appeased by Aknamkanon's death, but her Sight was clouded.

Most of the Guardians did not ask how often she was trying to look into the future: instead, they studied her as if to glean information from her expression when they thought she wasn't paying attention, and avoided entering any room in which she was sitting. Even though she knew their intention – they didn't want to disturb any vision that might come to her – it still chafed. She would rather have Priest Set's abrasive demands than the careful silence of the others, because she was beginning to feel shunned by both by her Gift and by those that she had come to think of as friends.

She finally had enough. She would insist that the Guardians begin taking at least the midday meal together, and remind them that, even more powerful than their individual strengths and gifts was the power inherent in the bonds between them.

And truth be told, of late the need to spend time with a certain solemn priest had become stronger and stronger. Just the thought of his face, his calm gray eyes, made her heart leap a little.

She hurried down stone stairways that seemed made of Time itself, through empty rooms hung with luxurious fabrics, across blazing courtyards, seeing no one, hearing no one … She began to wonder if she was having a vision: the pharaoh defeated, the palace deserted and lifeless – and then she saw a familiar brown-haired whirlwind.

"Mana," Isis ran to her, and asked breathlessly, "Where is your master?"

Mana looked startled, and then her forehead furrowed with worry. "Oh no! Is something wrong?"

"No, no," Isis said quickly. "I just … need to talk to him. Do you know where he is or what he is doing?"

Mana's face relaxed, then she gave a nervous giggle. "Promise not to tell?" Without waiting for Isis' answer she whispered, "The prince said that there were a few things that he had always wanted to do but never done, and that he had to do them now because as soon as he ascended as Pharaoh it wouldn't be allowed."

"Things?"

"Just go to the Water Courtyard. He's there with Mahaado." Mana glanced around guiltily. "Please don't tell anyone I told you where they were?"

"Al – alright," Isis said absently, at first trying to imagine what mysterious _things_ Atem and Mahaado might be doing in the tiny, intimate garden of the inner palace, and then ashamed of the pangs of envy that twisted in her chest. Yes, she was aware of the intense bond between the young pharaoh-to-be and the solemn priest; they had grown up together, spent many years in companionship, but were they truly now ... ?

"Isis," Mana said softly, "It's not what you think. They're not ... He's just eating a pomegranate."

"What?" Happily her reverie, with its distressing images, was now broken. "A – _pomegranate?_ Why?"

Mana glanced around again, then pulled Isis into an alcove, whispering. "When we were children, Jadda Anna would never let Atem eat them. She said that the Dorians of Hellas called pomegranates the food of the dead. She said that the daughter of the Earth had eaten three pomegranate seeds when she was in the Underworld, and that's why she had to return to the Fields of the Dead each year. Or maybe," Mana pondered for a minute, "maybe Jadda just didn't want Atem to get red juice stains on his white tunics."

"So Atem is eating ... a pomegranate? With Mahaado?"

Mana nodded firmly. "Now I'm off to distract High Priest Set for as long as I can. He never gives anyone any privacy!" And then she was off, her soft boots kicking up tiny puffs of dust as she raced down the corridor.

Isis, torn, finally set off for the courtyard.

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They sat facing each other in a stone bower, knees almost touching. Their profiles were serious, and it seemed that they spoke earnestly, but the sound of the miniature waterfall overpowered whatever faint words they spoke.

Then Atem put his hand on Mahaado's knee, and leaned forward, his other hand pressed to his chest.

In the shadows of the doorway, Isis's breath caught in her throat.

Mahaado glanced down, then lifted his hand and placed something in the Prince's mouth. After a moment Atem took his hand from Mahaado's knee, reached into the bowl, and in turn took something that he pressed to Mahaado's lips. After a pause the priest ate as well.

There was a sudden silence from the waterfall, and Isis could clearly hear Atem say, "See? It's easily done." Then Atem took the bowl from Mahaado's lap, set it aside, stood, and held out his hand.

After a moment Mahaado bowed his head.

Atem reached out, lifted the priest's chin, and said something.

Mahaado, his eyes on the prince's face, shook his head.

Atem moved close, stroking Mahaado's face with his fingertips.

Isis put her hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. She turned away from the doorway, silent tears burning her eyes, and found a place to hide until she was sure that they had left the garden.

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The cool stone was still warm in the places they had sat. Isis knelt on the ground between the bower's two benches, and without thinking lifted the bowl into her lap. The red fruit, split in half and spilling seeds, suddenly seemed to be made of blood and bone.

Like a skull sliced open.

The vision hit her like a blow: how Mahaado's limitless devotion would lead him to face the thief Bakura; how willing, violent death would fuse him with his _ka,_ the Illusion Magician, and bind his soul in eternal service to his beloved pharaoh. For a moment Isis wanted to stop it – to tell Atem her vision so that he would lock Mahaado safely away – but in the end, she could not deny Mahaado the joy that she knew his sacrifice would bring him.

And so she stood, and carried the bowl from the garden, and went to mourn her beloved in the Temple of the Dead.

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_~ The End ~_

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**Author's Notes**

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Based very loosely on (i.e., I took large liberties with) episodes 203 and 204 of the anime.

The myth of Hades and Persephone may have been around three to five millennia ago. Red fruit – such as apples and pomegranates – tends to show up in many myths as a food associated with cycles of death and rebirth. (It's also the reason why Easter eggs are dyed colors such as red. See _Egg Hunt_ for more Easter background.)

The Aknamkanon bit is based on the YGO wiki: "Sometime later, Aknamkanon finds out about the massacre from Priest Mahaado, who learned the secret from the Millennium Ring, he sacrifices himself to the gods of Egypt as a penance, asking only for his son's safety from their wrath in return. After the disturbing discovery, Aknamkanon grew ill and died." Due to my lack of time, I didn't research / think out a timeline as to exactly when Aknamkanon died or how soon afterward Atem became pharaoh.

My quick google-fu says that "jadda" is Egyptian for grandmother. And I think it said that Anna was as well. (Hope that doesn't mean that Jadda Anna translates to "Grandmother Granny".)

Finally, I hope that no one objects _too_ much to the Pleashipping (Isis/Mahaado) that frames this story.

(09) 21 June 20111 ~ tidied a few things, edited AN


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